


Handle with Care

by zjofierose



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Schmoop, Virginity, all the feelings, kink!bingo, woobie!chris, written before zach came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's just something about your first time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle with Care

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: porn.  
> Summary: fills the kink!bingo prompt "virginity/celibacy"  
> Disclaimer: FICTION. MADE UP. NO BASIS IN REALITY WHATSOEVER.
> 
> _ETA: going through and cleaning things up slightly circa 2016 just to make things a little more formatted and readable, etc. this is still an old fic, so it's a little... yeah. BUT even though I think (hope) I'm a better writer now, I think it's worth preserving the old stuff for a variety of reasons (yes, ok, part of my day job is being an archivist, it rubs off), so I'm leaving it mostly as is._

“God, what time is it?”

Chris stretches against the back of the couch, his muscles creaking in protest.

“ _Mmf_.”

Zach’s head has lolled almost completely sideways against the cushions, temple resting on a shoulder in a way that makes Chris wince to see it. He pokes him with a toe.

“Hey. Time.”

“ _Mmmmphh_.”

There’s still a haze around the ceiling from the copious amounts of pot and cigarettes smoked earlier. Beer bottles and shot glasses litter the coffee table and spill onto the floor, a hodgepodge of alcoholic paraphernalia.

Most of the people have cleared out in the last hour or two, but Chris can see Anton’s legs where they stretch across the lawn chair on the deck. He’s been passed out for a while, since before he and Zach had settled onto the couch, Chris thinks. The music had been turned to a low murmur as the party’s numbers had dwindled, and is now the only sound other than the distant rumble of Karl’s snores from the guest room.

Chris gathers himself, shoving Zach’s feet off his lap as he stands. Zach groans in protest and cracks open an eye.

“What’re you doin?”

“Gonna go see what time it is.” Chris holds still for a moment, letting the spin of the room steady, before he rises carefully and begins to make his listing way to the kitchen.

“Whyyyyy?”

“Because. I want to know. Should I have another drink, or should I just pass out?” The floor is waving a bit, but the walls are happily steady as he navigates his way through the doorway. He squints in pain; someone has left the kitchen lights on, and the bright shine pushes right through to the root of his optic nerve. He manages to make out that the stove clock reads 3:53. Early enough, he thinks, and grabs the closest bottle to hand as he turns back to the living room.

The living room is dark now, and warmer than the kitchen, and he pushes himself purposefully back to the couch, intending to roll himself again in the dim warm glow.

“Well?”

Zach has succeeded in pushing himself to a mostly upright position, but he looks rather precarious, leaning there half-cocked on one skinny arm.

“three forty something.” Chris waves a hand. “One more drink, then I’m done.” He flops down onto the couch, making Zach bounce and begin to fall. He wiggles himself into the corner and catches Zach as he falls against him, laughing at the pleased smile Zach makes as he tucks himself into Chris’ side.

“Mmm, you’re warm…”

“Oof, _god_ , hang on one sec, just gotta…”

It’s too late. The bottle is now out of reach, and he’s got a not-insignificant-weight of Zach draped all over him. He stretches, reaching his fingertips toward the bottle as hard as he can, but it’s no use. He sighs and starts to lean forward, but Zach just curls in deeper, shoving his face into Chris’ stomach, grumbling and clutching as Chris makes a token effort to push him off.

He gives in; it’s really no use to fight Zach when his mind’s made up, and he does look awfully comfortable there with his head pressed in against Chris’ hip.

He reaches down and brushes a stray lock of hair out of Zach’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. Zach smiles with his eyes closed, and Chris feels his heart stammer just for a moment. He loves his friend, he really does, and it crosses all sorts of lines he didn’t even know were there. He’s never been so close to anyone in his life, can’t imagine that he ever will be again. It’s the platonic ideal, he thinks; the camaraderie of brothers, the respect of colleagues, the deep and abiding love of true friendship. The fervent attraction of…

Well.

Maybe not that last part.

Zach moves in his semi-doze, sliding a hand along Chris’ back, and managing to slip his nose under the edge of Chris’ shirt, angling so that his warm breath is moving over the edge of his belly.

Ok. Fine.

Maybe the last part too.

He pushes his hand into Zach’s hair, moving his fingers gently down to rub at the back of his friend’s neck. Everything is nicely fuzzy now; moving around has brought his buzz back, and everything seems perfect. This moment, this space, this particular convocation of observed atomic waveforms.

He speaks before he can change his mind. He’s drunk enough to ask, and Zach’s drunk enough to forget.

“Hey Zach.”

“… _hhhrrrmm_?”

“Will you sleep with me?”

“… _am_ sleepin’ with you, doofus…”

“…not what I meant.”

“…”

Zach blinks an eye, then pushes himself up, rubbing his face with a hand as he props himself vaguely upright.

“Wait. What? I must be drunker than I thought.” He rearranges his long legs, prepares to lie back down. Chuckles. “I thought you just asked me to have sex with you.”

“…I did.”

The expression of confusion and surprise on Zach’s face would be comical, if it didn’t hit Chris kind of low in the gut. Still, he thinks, no backing out now. In for a penny, in for pound. Hanged for a sheep as well as a…goat? No, that doesn’t seem quite right…

“Wait. _Wait_.”

Zach puts a hand out as Chris opens his mouth, turns his head toward the coffee table.

“What’s that you grabbed? Tequila?”

Chris shrugs. He hadn’t really looked at the bottle. Zach grabs it and pours a liberal amount into two glasses of questionable cleanliness, takes a whiff. “Mm, Scotch. Better. Here.” He hands one to Chris, and knocks back about half of his glassful, eyes closed and blissful. He wipes a hand across his mouth, a tiny drop caught in the stubble at the corner of his mouth, catching the light and glistening.

Chris wants to lick it off.

“Ok. Now.” He pauses, squints an eye open. “You want to _what_?”

Chris squirms. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“I…want to, ehm, sleep… with you?”

_Dammit, Chris, don’t make it a question._ He gathers his nerves, avoids looking at Zach’s no-doubt appalled face.

“I want. To have. Sex. With you.”

He forces himself to raise his eyes and face his friend. The look on Zach’s face is one part horrified, one part amused, and about three parts shocked. The horrified is the one that sinks in first, and Chris flushes from head to toe, blood rushing to color his skin in transparent mortification, visible even in the dim light.

He shoves himself up, correcting his wobble with grim determination even as all the blood rushes from his head.

“Sorry. Never mind. I’ll just…” He turns away, heading for the hallway. He’s moving faster now, veering slightly but staying determinedly on course.

“Wait! Chris, _goddammit_!”

He hears rustling behind him, but ignores it. He’s in the mouth of the hallway now, moving steadfastly to the door. He’ll walk home, he thinks. He’s in no state to drive. But he can walk home, and pass out, and with any luck, forget this ever…

“Chris!” He’s slammed suddenly against the wall, his shoulder-blade colliding painfully with a doorjamb as the weight of a moving Zach breaks its momentum against him.

“Goddamit, didn’t you hear me say ‘ _wait_ ’?” Zach looks pissed, which would be scary, if he weren’t so drunk that he had to hang on to Chris’ shirtfront to stay properly upright.

Chris turns his face away.

“No, I didn’t hear you.” He pushes ineffectually at Zach’s chest. “Let go. I’m going home.”

“Oh. My. God. Really?” Now Zach really _is_ pissed. Chris swallows. “You’re just going to say something like that to me, and then you’re going to leave? Oh no.”

Chris forces himself to breathe slowly, calmly.

“Zach. I’m sorry I said it. Just… let me go home? Please?”

Zach shakes his head, once, twice. He straightens, holding his own weight, and begins to walk to the kitchen, pulling Chris by the shirtfront behind him.

“No. No way. I’m sorry, Chris, but if we’re finally going to have this talk, we’re going to goddamn well have it. C’mon.”

_Finally have this talk? What the hell?_

The kitchen light is still blinding, and Zach pours them both mugs of water mostly by feel. He hands one to Chris, grabbing his free hand tightly and hauling him along behind. Visions of tugboats and sheepdogs flash through Chris’ mind as he stumbles obediently behind Zach up the stairs, and he fights down the urge to giggle hysterically.

Zach pulls him into what must be his bedroom, and shuts the door firmly. It’s much cooler up here; the window is open and a late night breeze blows the room, moving the curtain that hangs past the sash.

Chris flops down on the end of the bed, too tired suddenly to care that he’s in Zach’s room! on Zach’s bed! and he takes a drink of water, watching as the other man situates himself opposite.

“See, here’s the thing.” Zach pauses, drinks. “It’s nothing personal, Chris. I like you, I really do. It’s just…” His face hardens. “Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me! I’m being serious here!”

Chris is hurt, suddenly, and a little bit angry. Ok, maybe a lot angry. He’d made a stupid mistake, one which he would have thought Zach would be willing to just let go, but now, here they are, sobering up far too quickly for his tastes, having the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk. He scowls, and Zach rubs a hand across his face, takes another drink.

“Chris, I like you. I just… don’t…” He trails off.

“Don’t what?” Chris raises his fingers to make air quotes. “Don’t ‘like me that way?’ Don’t want to hurt me? What? How many more cliché’s shall I bring up?”

Zach’s face closes, and Chris feels like an ass.

“Chris, I don’t sleep with people.”

Chris waits for a moment.

Nothing happens.

“What do you mean?”

Now it’s Zach’s turn to roll his eyes impatiently.

“I mean, I don’t have sex.” He must see the bug eyed expression on Chris’ face even in the dark, because he grimaces and goes on. “Not anymore, anyway. I mean, I have, sure. But not in a long time. And I just… can’t. Not now. Not with you.” He hangs his head, and Chris wants nothing more than to reach over and touch Zach’s pale hand where it rests on his leg.

He doesn’t.

“But…why?”

Zach looks at him. “You really have to ask?”

Chris shrugs. “Well, I guess I can think of a few reasons… but I’m just speculating, really.” He shrugs again, starting to smile. “VD, ED, STD…” He laughs out loud when Zach reaches over and smacks him on the arm.

“ _No_ , you _dick_.” He’s smiling now, that sheepish smile that pulls at Chris’ throat.

“How would I know?”

“ _Ass_. No. I’m clean, and I can get it up.” He chuckles, then sobers. “No, it’s just… for one thing, I like boys. At least the majority of the time.” He looks up at Chris, meeting his eyes, and the tentativeness of his gaze makes Chris hurt just a little.

“Yeah, I got that part.”

“Well, ok, so, you know, I don’t really deny it, but… I’m not really ready to make that a part of my career, either.” He hangs his head again, picking at a hair on his leg. “And maybe that’s cowardice, or maybe it’s just being realistic, but either way, not sleeping with people keeps it simple.” He takes a deep breath. “Also, I’m… we’re famous. Not, like, A-list famous, but famous enough to be taken advantage of. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to take something that should be meaningful, and turn it into something that’s about fame or about blackmail or notoriety or whatever. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I mean…” he looks embarrassed, refuses to meet Chris’ eyes, “… I mean… not like I’ll only sleep with someone I’d marry, but… I want it to mean _something_.”

He shakes himself, sits up straight, takes a drink. He meets Chris’ eyes with a rueful grin.

“So, you see? It really _is_ me, not you.” He holds up a hand. “Scouts honor. Now…” he frowns, staring at Chris, “why on earth would you say that to me? I mean…” he holds up a hand to forestall the words on the tip of Chris’ tongue. “I mean, I know we flirt all the time. And I know we’re close. But… it’s a big step from ‘ _bromantic_ ’” he grimaces as his fingers quirk on either side of his head, “to actually propositioning me. What gives?”

It’s Chris’ turn to hang his head now, and he does, twisting his fingers in his lap. He can feel the thrice damned heat rising to the surface of his skin again, and wishes he could sink into the mattress and disappear.

“I… well, I’ve never had sex with a guy. And I like you. And we’re friends. And I like you a lot. And you’re really hot. And…” He can hear that he’s rushing, he can’t help it; after being pushed down and sideways and out for so long, the words are forcing themselves out between his lips in a flood of confession. “Zach, I’m, I think I’m, I’m kind of in love with you.” The last word hangs in the silence, and he raises his head. “I wanted you to be the one for me.”

He blushes even hotter, and stands abruptly. This has got to be the most embarrassed he’s been in a decade. How did this even happen?

“Ok, this time I’m really going. Bye Zach, let’s never talk of this again, ok?”

He doesn’t get a step before a warm hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him up short. He stands still, motionless but his breath, and waits as Zach comes around, his eyes filled with warm concern. He wants to die.

“Chris, I…”

Chris yanks the arm that Zach is still holding onto, and the force pulls Zach in close, his eyes widening in surprise. Chris doesn’t wait, doesn’t think, just leans in and presses his mouth against Zach’s. His lips are warm and soft, damp where they meet Chris’, and he gives a startled gasp, but doesn’t pull away fast enough, so Chris slides his fingers into the back of Zach’s belt and licks at his lips. Zach gives a tiny moan, his hands sliding up to rest flat on the curve of Chris’ clavicle.

“Chris, I …”

Chris whimpers, the thought of stopping now nearly unbearable. He kisses pleadingly down the line of Zach’s jaw, reveling in the feel of faint stubble against his lips, the firm bones of Zach’s face a work of art beneath his entreating mouth.

“Chris…just…”

Chris gets a hand up under the edge of Zach’s half-un-tucked shirt and slides it across the smooth expanse of his belly and Zach inhales sharply, pressing forward involuntarily. He pushes against the small of Zach’s spine, bringing them into full contact, and bites ever so lightly at the concavity of his shoulder.

He inhales.

“Zach.” He’s never been so glad for near-darkness. “Please?”

He can feel Zach tense against him, can nearly hear his brain turning over, clicking away like clockwork behind his wide eyes. Zach chews his lip, closes his eyes.

“You’re sure?”

The “ _yes_ …” that escapes Chris’ mouth sounds like a prayer in the pre-dawn stillness.

Zach’s eyes are open, suddenly, and boring into his, the intensity harsh.

“This can’t fuck up our friendship. Got it? Promise me.” He grips Chris’ shirt.

“Yeah, ok.”

“ _Promise. Me_.”

“I promise, Zach, I promise.” He breathes out, slides his hands up to Zach’s elbows, then up the soft skin of his inner arms to his shoulders. “I promise.”

He can feel the hardness of Zach against him, presses his face into Zach’s neck and breathes, letting the scent of heat, of skin, of _Zach_ flood into him. He’d know that smell anywhere; the mix of laundry detergent and shampoo and summer sweat and that underlying hint of something quintessentially Zach. He stretches his tongue out to taste that soft space of skin at the base of Zach’s throat, the indentation between clavicles. There is a tiny bead of sweat resting in the hollow, and Chris takes it with his tongue, treasuring the stuttered breath that follows.

Zach begins to laugh, his voice echoing around the room as he chuckles under his breath, low and deep and increasing in the dark.

“Oh, Chris” he laughs again, and Chris can’t think what to do, so he begins to unbutton Zach’s shirt, flaming face pointed down as he forces himself not to stop out of fear.

“Chris” Zach sighs, his mouth warm and smiling as he takes Chris’ chin in his hand and raises his head. “It just figures that I would wait this long, resist this long, and you would turn out to be one of the sexiest goddamn men I’ve ever met.”

Chris blinks in surprise, then yelps as Zach grabs him and pushes him down onto the bed, shoving him on to his back and climbing up to straddle him. He can feel his eyes bugging out of his head, and bites down on his lip to avoid questioning this sudden burst of good fortune.

“You” Zach is unbuttoning his shirtfront and cuffs, stripping it from his leanly muscled arms. “ _You_ want _me_ to sleep with you…” he throws the shirt into the corner of the room, and starts to unbutton his pants. “Because you’ve never slept with a man. Yes?”

Chris nods mutely.

Zach moans. “That is _the_ sexiest thing I’ve heard in years.” He reaches down and grabs at the hem of Chris’ shirt. “Really.” He snares Chris’ eyes, and a devious smile slides across those full lips as he gives a sudden yank. Buttons fly in all directions, and Chris begins to laugh as Zach lowers his smiling face to Chris’ chest. “ _Years_.”

Chris inhales sharply at the sudden sensation of Zach’s warm and insistent tongue at the curve of his shoulder, and he moans instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut as Zach’s sharp teeth graze the skin just enough to leave a mark.

This, _this_ is what he has been craving since the moment he laid eyes on the man, and he can feel himself give over, body and soul, to his beautiful friend, relaxing fully and allowing his hands to come up and twist in Zach’s thick hair.

He gives a tug, and Zach leans forward, planting his hands on either side of Chris’ shoulders and leaning in to fit their mouths together, the delicate tangling of tongues the only motion until Chris moves, pressing his hips up from the bed and eliciting a muffled curse from the man above him.

Zach’s eyes are laughing, but there’s something deeper in them, and he bites his lip as he pulls away from Chris’ mouth to look him in the eye.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Zach.”

He hooks his hands into Zach’s belt, sliding his thumbs against the smooth skin of his hipbones, and nearly shivers at the powerful look of lust that crosses Zach’s face in a flash, hidden abruptly under an easy smile.

Zach leans forward, bracing his elbows on the bed, dragging his mouth down flushed skin to a nipple, tapping it lightly with his tongue before fixing his mouth around it and pulling. Chris moans loudly, his knees pulling up in reflex. He can feel the pull in his throat, in his groin, the heat pouring through his body as Zach sucks. He scrabbles furiously at Zach’s belt with shaking hands, his mind so far beyond intellectualizing what he wants that it’s all he can do to remember the basic physics of a tongue in a hole to get the belt undone. It gives, and he fumbles the button, yanks the zipper down, pulse racing as he finally gets his hands into the front of his pants and cups Zach’s waiting dick, heavy and delicious, forcing Zach up for air.

“Christ, Chris, it’s not a race!”

But his chuckle is hoarse with want, so Chris ignores him and yanks his pants to his knees, smiling when Zach pulls himself effortlessly up so he’s standing on feet and hands to let Chris push them all the way off as he steps out.

Chris knows an opportunity when he sees one, and hauls his tight little briefs down as well before Zach can stop him, Zach’s dick bouncing free at last against his distractingly furred abdomen.

There’s something to what they say about biology knowing what it wants, Chris thinks, because he may never have sucked a cock in his life, but the sight of Zach’s swollen and cheerful member makes his mouth water like a champ. He’d laugh, if he could breathe better, but right now he needs all the oxygen he can get.

Zach _is_ laughing, the bastard, but he’s also unbuttoning Chris’ jeans with impressive dexterity, and pressing his mirth into the soft skin of Chris’ belly as he works his pants free from his legs.

He bites down suddenly, pressing his teeth into the vulnerable flesh of Chris’ hip, making him start with surprise.

“God, Chris, you’re amazing.” The note in Zach’s voice is growling, and his fingers are clutching at his thighs as he rubs his face at the hair that tracks down Chris’ abdomen. “Look at you, just, so incredible, and no one has done this before?”

Chris’ dick can’t possibly get much harder, so he lifts his hips helpfully to let Zach slide his underwear to the floor as he shakes his head mutely.

Zach has slid down to the floor, pulling Chris down the bed until his hips are at the edge of the mattress. He clutches at Zach’s shoulders, feeling a sudden twinge of apprehension.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you.”

He wants to be offended at the casual endearment, but he can’t be; it’s too sweet, too Zach, for him to be anything but touched. Zach’s hands are caressing him, rubbing a thumb into an instep which makes him sigh with pleasure, circling his ankle before pressing firmly into his calves.

Chris feels himself begin to go limp with the massage, putty in Zach’s capable hands.

“Oh, Chris, I can’t even tell you… just seeing you like this, I can’t…” Zach sounds nearly shell-shocked, and Chris forces his eyes open to see a look on Zach’s face that borders on reverence. His long slim fingers are tracing patterns into the bared flesh of Chris’ inner thighs now, not massaging so much as blessing.

“Zach…”

“Just relax, baby. We’re not going to rush this.” Zach licks his lips, and Chris’ dick jumps in front of him, making him give a breathless laugh before he tips his head down and _licks_ , running his tongue from base to tip, a line of liquid heat that has Chris driving his fingers into the sheets with the effort not to yell.

It’s not that he’s never had a blowjob before, it’s just that he’s never had one from Zach.

And that, apparently, makes all the difference.

It’s seconds before he is arching his back, and not more than a minute before he’s yelling in earnest. Zach pulls his mouth off with a grin of pure mischief, and well, Chris has never had a tongue _there_ before, and it’s certainly different, but he can’t say that he minds, not with Zach’s long fingers still wrapped around his cock, and not when Zach’s tongue is so warm and dedicated, licking around his hole while his other hand gently tugs on Chris’ balls.

The first finger he takes almost without noticing since Zach chooses that moment to return his mouth to the head of his dick, and by the time he notices, it’s well past the ring of muscle and sliding back and forth in a debilitatingly arousing rhythm.

The second makes him hiss under his breath, Zach pressing slowly but insistently in as he rubs Chris’ thigh and murmurs under his breath.

“So hot, Chris, that you’re mine, that I get to do this for you. You’re so tight, this is going to feel so good, you have no idea, no idea, it’s going to be like nothing else you’ve ever felt…”

Zach’s hair is disheveled, his eyes gleaming in the dark, and suddenly Chris is lonely up here on the bed, so he reaches down and pulls Zach up the length of his body, taking the opportunity to run his hands all over Zach’s smooth, lean frame.

Zach is poetry enfleshed, like a dancer, or anatomy book illustration, all lines and shadows, curves and lighted planes. He’s breathing hard as Chris kisses him, desperate to be close to this man, pressing into him and closing his eyes against the terrible beauty of the moon-inflicted chiaroscuro of Zach’s skin.

“God, _Chris_ …”

“Just do it, Zach. I’m ready. Please…”  Chris whimpers, hooking a leg over Zach’s hip and thrusting forward, gasping as their naked skin slips past and shoves together. “ _Please_ , Zach.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does move, turning Chris flat on his back and settling between his knees. He pulls Chris’ hand forward, turning it palm up, and pours a small amount of oil into the depression at the center of his hand. Chris can see the etching of his life line, his love line, gleaming under the meniscus of liquid, and he holds Zach’s gaze as he sits up and takes Zach’s cock in his two hands, smearing the oil decadently around the head and shaft as Zach’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“ _Do you trust me_?”

“Yes, god, Zach, yes, always, _yes_.”

Zach kisses him greedily, hungrily, capturing his tongue and stealing his breath, pushing Chris down onto his back with one hand and pulling his legs up to wrap around his narrow waist with his other. Chris sinks his teeth into Zach’s lip, and feels the first pressure at his entrance, moans at the sudden accommodating stretch.

It’s amazing, and painful, and he moans, gripping Zach’s shoulders with fingers that will leave small round marks of their touch.

Zach pulls up, working a hand between them to rub reassuringly over his stomach, kneading the tight muscles of his abdomen as he presses infinitesimally forward.

“Shh, baby, it’s ok. The first time it’s always a little tough, but I’ve got you, it’ll be so good, so good, I promise.”

Chris moans again, this time with increasing pleasure as he begins to relax and Zach slides in more easily. His dick is hardening again, caught between his stomach and Zach’s, the gradual increase of pressure from Zach’s abdomen pulling it taut. Zach is still rubbing his belly, sliding forward, and finally he’s in, his balls lying warm against the curve of Chris’ bare ass. He pauses, eyes closed, propped on his hands. Chris can see the sheen of sweat across his brow as he struggles not to move. He reaches up a hand, traces a callused thumb across that dark circumflex of eyebrow, down the arc of cheekbone. Zach’s eyes flutter open, and he pins Chris with an awe-struck stare.

“God. Chris. I… Thank you.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I just…”

The look on his face is beautiful, but Chris is done with poetry, and clenches his muscles around Zach’s length, making the other man start, then laugh, then move, and Chris feels himself begin to fly, the repetitive slide of Zach’s dick in his ass pressing him further and further into ecstatic oblivion. He can hear himself shouting, he can hear Zach shouting, but it’s from a distance as heat and electricity course through his body, his muscles tightening in response to Zach’s increasing speed.

There is one transcendent moment, when their eyes lock and hold for a second as they hover on the precipice of extraordinary, and then Zach slams forward and they are launched, flung into the stratosphere, every muscle locking up and stammering in concert as they clutch and hold and soar.

It’s full minutes before Chris can move again, much less form a coherent thought, and from the way that Zach is draped bonelessly across him, he’s not the only one who has departed the realms of humanity in favor of a more invertebrate species.

He has just enough energy to reach down and drag the sheet over them, holding Zach close when he starts to pull out and nuzzling into his neck instead.

He closes his eyes, adrift in the exhausted warmth, turning his face into the hand Zach has cupped around his cheek.


End file.
